Firecrackers and the Lottery

Nobody else in the family prays like my grandmother. My older brother, Preecha, prays when he wants something or is worried. At those times he comes to the altar to recite his mantras, sometimes holding his Buddha amulets. Preecha has a keen interest in objects that protect him or lend him a magical power. He disappears for hours into my grandmother’s room in search of sacred objects.

Once he heard a rumor that he would be transferred to a remote veterinary station. He was depressed, thinking that his prosperous career would be jeopardized. His wife was nervous that they would be deprived of their comfortable life in the city and placed in some back country station. They consulted with my mother and came up with a solution: to pray together.

My mother, Preecha, and his wife prayed to the local deity, whose reputation has never failed those who believe in his power. My mother said that the deity is very kind and usually does not ask for much in return, but you must seriously and faithfully keep any promises you make to him. If my brother’s wish was granted, he would be obligated to offer fresh flowers and to light one hundred fire crackers.

A few weeks later, his prayer was answered. He wasn’t transferred to the remote station but to a bigger and more prosperous town. Preecha offered a beautiful bouquet to the deity, and the whole village listened to the one hundred fire crackers for almost an hour.

My mother secretly prays before bed. She bows three times on her pillow and recites a shortcut prayer, making quick wishes and then bowing three times: once to the Buddha, once to the Dharma, and once to the Sangha. She often wishes for a good dream. Having a good dream is important, especially on the night before the underground lottery. An old monk from a village temple helps her to interpret her dreams and to translate them into good lottery numbers. The process of getting the numbers right is very sophisticated.

I question my mother sometimes. Isn’t it a de-merit for this monk to buy a lottery ticket? Isn’t he supposed to be renouncing the world? Mother hisses at me and says, “Why are you asking such a question? The old monk is not gambling for profit. He plays just for fun.” There are a lot of people playing the underground lottery. The worst are the police. If there is going to be a raid, it should start at the police station. My mother always justifies her illegal gambling by saying it’s just a little fun.

[Written by Jip back in 2001.]